


Deeze Nuts

by SilverWing15



Series: I'm Writing Fanfiction About Block Men God Help Me [5]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Dadza, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Parental Phil, Phil has so many feelings about his sons, seriously, the angst fam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:54:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28103508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverWing15/pseuds/SilverWing15
Summary: In its lifetime, an oak tree will produce ten million acorns. Ten thousand a year, in good years.But only one in a thousand of those acorns will become an oak tree itself.It is easy to plant a seed of godhood, but left on their own, they will wither and fail. Beaten down by rain, left parched by drought, trampled under the feet of greater beingsPhil loves his sons with all his heart, and that is what puts them in so much danger.
Relationships: TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: I'm Writing Fanfiction About Block Men God Help Me [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2057121
Comments: 18
Kudos: 500
Collections: Completed stories I've read





	Deeze Nuts

**Author's Note:**

> I used to put so much effort into picking out poetic titles that really encapsulated the work. Now I just pick a meme and then punch y'all in the gut with angst while you're still laughing.

In its lifetime, an oak tree will produce ten million acorns. Ten thousand a year, in good years. 

But only one in a thousand of those acorns will become an oak tree itself. 

It is easy to plant a seed of godhood. All it takes is one blessing, one flicker of power, a few years in the footsteps of an immortal, and that seed takes root. Most gods don’t even realize when they plant that seed.

What god would miss a single drop of power? 

Wherever they wander, godlings sprout and take root. But only one in a thousand will become gods themselves. 

It takes thirty years for an oak tree to mature. 

It takes thousands for a godling to ascend to something greater. 

Left on their own, they will wither and fail. Beaten down by rain, left parched by drought, trampled under the feet of greater beings. 

Phil knows that he has created far more godlings than have made it to maturity, but these four. Five, now, with Wilbur’s son, he watches over with greatest care. Technoblade is nearly there, but he is still naive with the arrogance of youth. The others are worse. They fling themselves headlong into danger and sometimes Phil wishes that they would simply stay in one place like trees. 

But he loves his sons, dearly, deeply, with every inch of his ancient heart. That is what puts them in so much danger. 

Phil has always preferred to be a harmless--well, generally harmless, sometimes its hard to remember how fragile humans are, hard to keep in mind their limits and failings. They’re just so small--wanderer. Keeping to himself, aside from a few bits of mischief here and there. 

Dream is a more violent breed. He took exception to something Phil did a few thousand years ago--Phil doesn’t think either of them remember it anymore really--and from there its spiraled into a sort of war. At first it was almost fun, a few tricks here, a bit of annoyance there. 

Then Dream brought some foreign godling into his son’s city. 

Phil knows that Dream hates L’manberg, hates what it stands for, what it could mean. He knows that Dream fears change as much as any being as ancient and set in their ways as they are does. But it is the work of his son’s hands, and therefore it is precious to Phil. 

So when they’re exiled from their own city, when Dream manipulates Phil’s son towards a darker path, Phil takes notice. Takes exception. 

In the end, even godlings are fragile little beings. A little  _ squeeze _ and the poor thing’s heart just  _ popped _ . 

But Dream wasn’t content with that, even with the destruction of the city. Their conflict has become something darker, something bloodier. Something much more dangerous. 

Phil is willing to risk many things, but not his sons, never his sons. He gathers Wilbur to his breast and hides him away, but he knows he has to move carefully, subtly. Dream is persistent as a wolf on the hunt, if Phil makes his plans too obvious Dream will know and all of it will have been for nothing. 

He almost waits too long to get Tommy, but now they are both safe in Technoblade’s home. He will rejoin them as soon as he can wiggle his way out of this conversation with Dream. 

Dream is gloating, obviously, obnoxiously, like a child. But Dream hasn’t been a child in centuries. 

Phil is hardly listening, he only needs to look grim and defeated. Dream will get tired of hearing his own voice at some point in the next year, surely. 

Only Dream stiffens, his mouth finally shuts. A snarl twitches at his face for a moment, then disappears. “But I guess you’ve got other things to do than sit here and listen to be chatter on,” he says with a laugh. “Do enjoy the funeral.” 

He disappears with a pop and Phil waits a bare moment to make sure he won’t come back before his takes himself away from the warm fields of L’manberg and to the icy tundra around Techno’s base. 

The trap door beneath the table stands open. 

It is pointless to go down, but Phil does it anyway. The basement is empty, his children are out there, alone somewhere, unprotected, and Dream knows it. 

He sweeps out of the house as a frosty wind, blows himself through the snowy fields, searching for any signs of his sons.  _ There _ footsteps in the snow, one set sprinting east from the house, small, light.  _ Tommy _ . Beside them, larger bootprints from a heavier frame, Technoblade. Thank the stars. 

Going south, Wilbur’s footprints make a trek straight for L’manberg. Phil hesitates, but Tommy will be in far more danger than Wilbur. Will knows how to keep himself safe, Tommy doesn’t even know that he is in danger from himself. 

He will find Wilbur as soon as Tommy is safe. 

He finds them miles from the house, Tommy in Techno’s arms, small and helpless as a babe. Shaking like a leaf, tears in his eyes. Techno’s face is grim. 

Phil descends into a form closer to mortality and rushes to his eldest son’s side. His hand finds its way into Tommy’s hair. He may be a god, but this is the skin of his son, safe and sound, is the closest thing to holiness that Phil has ever found. 

“I was almost too late,” Techno says, seemingly unruffled, but Phil knows how to read his son. There is tension in his jaw, he cradles Tommy just a little too close, holds him just a little too hard. 

Phil rests a hand on Techno’s cheek and presses a kiss to his son’s brow. “We’ll get him back to the basement, the runes will shield him. Dream knows he’s alive, though. And Wilbur left as well.” 

If Phil were a mortal man, he would have a heart attack from all the stress his sons give him. 

Techno scoffs and pretends that he hadn’t leaned into Phil’s touch, looking out over the tundra as if something far more interesting than a few rabbits hopping by is there. “Come on,” Phil says and he grabs Techno’s hand and carries them back to the house in a blink. 

They have work to do. 

Tommy wakes up as they step into the house, “Phil?” he mumbles, voice still thick with sleep. 

“Hey,” Phil says, he will be angry later, right now his son needs him. He brushes a hand through Tommy’s hair, its heavy with ice, it will tangle later. Tommy’s hair has always tangled so easily. He used to spend hours trying to get it into some semblance of order, but it has always grown wild, just like Tommy himself. 

“You’re back,” Tommy says, he’s still drowsy. Phil wonders if Techno hit him with some sort of sleep spell that the wards are now suppressing. It would probably be kinder to Tommy if he could sleep through this, but they will need him awake. 

Dream spent months working this little shard of himself into Phil’s son, but it is not something that can be worried out so delicately. The only way to remove it is to yank it all in one go. 

It will not be a pleasant process.

“Of course I came back,” Phil soothes, it is actually a good thing that Wilbur has left for now at least. They lay Tommy on Wilbur’s bed and Phil cups his son’s cheek as he slowly comes around and Techno fastens the restraints. 

“...What? What are you doing?” Tommy asks, he tugs at the straps once, twice. There is fear entering his eyes now and it tears at Phil’s heart. 

“Its alright,” Phil soothes, he sits at Tommy’s side and Techno slips out to gather the supplies they’ll need. He knows what to gather, he’s far younger than Phil but he has quite the aptitude for magic. “We’re going to get Dream out of your head.” 

“Dream?” Tommy asks, squinting up at the light, his mind seems to catch up then, “gods he almost killed me.” His breath comes faster, Phil can hear his heart pounding in his chest. He’s so  _ young _ . Just a baby. How could Dream try to hurt him? 

Phil leans over him, cups Tommy’s face in his hands, “you’re alright,” he promises, “I’ll keep you safe, remember?” How many times has he said this to his sons, after nightmares, after frightening encounters with monsters in the wilds before they became such accomplished fighters. “I’ll always keep you safe.” 

No matter what. 

Technoblade returns with the supplies and a thick tome that shimmers with magic on the pages. His face is grim. Phil takes the book from him, “you should go,” he says, he cannot protect Tommy from this, but he can protect his eldest son at least. Techno opens his mouth to argue, but Phil holds up a hand, “Wilbur is out there, you’ve got to find him.” 

Techno glances from Phil to Tommy, “I can stay.” 

“But you don’t need to,” Phil says, he guides Techno by the shoulder out of the room. “Go get your brother, alright?” 

“Alright,” Techno says, and for a moment, he sounds unsure. So much like that little boy that Phil found starving in the woods so long ago. He leaves, thankfully, and Phil returns to Tommy’s side. 

“I love you,” he murmurs to his son, and then he sets about the grim work of undoing what Dream has done. 


End file.
